


Okay… maybe just a little bit of action

by stjarna



Series: Season 4 - Coda Challenge [18]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Coda, Coda Challenge, Coda Challenge @The FitzSimmons Network, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Follow-up to "A little more conversation a little less action please", Post S04E11 "Wake Up", Smut, Some Fluff, because you all said yes to a little smutty continuation, some smut, took an interesting turn towards the end that I kinda didn't even expect myself
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-29
Updated: 2017-01-29
Packaged: 2018-09-20 18:38:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,372
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9506057
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stjarna/pseuds/stjarna
Summary: A continuation ofA little more conversation, a little less action please[I suppose you can sort of read it without having read the first part, but I like the first part... so I suggest you read it ;) ]





	

**Author's Note:**

> The two fics overlap slightly in the beginning, but this one is written from Jemma's POV.

“Well,” Jemma says, her lips twitching suggestively, “one  _ could _ argue that talking isn’t the  _ only _ form of communication between two people.” 

She presses her body closer to his, feeling his body tense up, his chest slowly rising against hers.

“In  _ fact _ ,” she adds, her voice huskier than usual, “I know from  _ experience _ that your hands and lips are  _ exceptionally _ capable communicators.”

“My lips?” he asks, grinning mischievously. He withdraws one hand from her waist, pointing at his lips. “The ones I  _ talk _ with?”

She laughs out loud, resting her head against his chest for a moment, before looking back at him. “You’re  _ insufferable _ !”

He chuckles, before taking another slow breath. “Okay,” he says, and Jemma notices his body relax. “I just have to say  _ one _ more thing.”

“What’s that?” she asks, rolling her eyes.

Then he pulls her closer. The way he gazes at her makes her get lost in the blue of his eyes while she anxiously awaits what he thinks still needs to be said.

Like instinct, the corners of her mouth move up into a smile when she sees him lean closer, when he captures her mouth with his. His lips are soft and gentle and taste like home.

When his tongue slowly glides across her lips, she welcomes him, eagerly, passionately. Her hands pull him closer by the neck as she lets her tongue dance with his, as she presses her body flush against him.

His hands reach for her blouse, pulling it out of her trousers. And a soft moan escapes her lips, when his fingers glide underneath the fabric across her naked back.

“You’re right,” he whispers, and the husky tone of his voice sends an excited shiver down her spine. “My hands and lips  _ are _ exceptionally capable communicators.”

She laughs against his lips. Somewhere in the back of her brain she has a snarky reply, but the rest of her decides to let his cockiness slide and instead succumb to his exceptionally capable communicators: his lips melting into hers, his hands reaching for the buttons of her blouse, undoing them one by one, quickly, with determination.

Jemma allows her mind to take a break, gives into her desires, her instincts, lets her hands, her lips talk, ask, reply as eagerly as his.

Her hands glide down from his neck to the buttons of his shirt. She helps him shed his button-up, while he slides her blouse off her shoulders.

It’s like their actions mirror each other, complement each other like two pieces of a puzzle.

Their lips hold one conversation while their hands hold another, communicating their desire, their longing.

Fitz’s hands slide from her naked shoulders, down to the small of her back, back up to the clasp of her bra, while Jemma’s search for the buckle of his belt, undoing it urgently, no time to waste.

Jemma moans when Fitz intensifies their kiss, taking her breath away. He pulls her body closer; his hands rest on her shoulder blades, and she savors the feeling of her breasts pressing against his naked chest.

He guides her backwards to the bed. It’s slightly awkward to scoot their two bodies up the mattress, but neither of them is willing to let their lips part from each other, to bring any space between their naked torsos.

Her hands touch his cheeks, comb through his hair, her fingernails slide down his back and she hears a deep groan from the back of his throat, not from pain, but from ecstasy.

His lips move to her jaw and Jemma tilts her head to give him better access to her neck. He nips at her pulse point, while one of his hands glides down to her breast, cupping it, massaging it eagerly.

Her heart wants to jump out of her chest from excitement, joy, arousal. Her breathing is heavy and quickens even more when he places wet kisses on her chest, breasts, stomach while his hands search for the hem of her trousers. He undoes the button and zipper and urgently pulls down her trousers and underpants.

“Someone’s certainly eager,” Jemma remarks, out of breath, lifting her hips to make the task a bit easier for him.

He lets her clothes drop to the floor at the end of the bed and crawls back up to her, letting one hand glide up the inside of her leg until his fingers reach her burning center. He presses the palm of his hand against her wetness, and brings his face close to hers, pushing himself up on his elbow. “You mind?” he asks, his eyes dark and longing.

She smiles, pulling him closer to capture his lips with hers. “Definitely not,” she whispers against his lips.

Her breath catches at the back of her throat when he increases the pressure of his hand against her, when his thumb gently glides across her clit. She moans when he curls his fingers, sliding two of them inside of her. His rhythm is steady, slow, and a wave of ecstasy floods her body.

She kisses him, feverishly, bucking her hips against his movement, noticing him react to her excitement. Her breathing quickens as she feels herself getting closer to her climax, but she longs for so much more. His touch isn’t enough. Not tonight. Not after everything that had happened in the past few days. Not after she’d almost lost him again. Not after he’d almost lost her. Not when they had finally talked, come clean, repaired and strengthened their bond.

“Stop,” she exclaims, trying to catch her breath, placing one hand on his arm to stop his movement. “Stop.”

He pushes himself further up on his elbow, lifting some of his weight off her body. He moves his hand from her center, resting it on her shoulder instead, squeezing it reassuringly. “What’s wrong?” he asks, full of concern.

She smiles and reaches for his cheek with her hand. “Nothing,” she whispers. “Nothing. I just… I want all of you. All of you.”

The corners of his mouth quirk up ever so slightly. He leans down and kisses her, his lips gently brushing against hers. Then he slides off the side of the bed. Slowly, he takes off his trousers and boxers, before climbing back into bed and lying down next to her.

His thumb gently glides down her hairline, her jaw. His fingers curl around her neck and he rolls on top of her as his lips capture hers. She wraps one leg around his hip, pulling him closer, feeling his erection against her wetness.

Their kiss is sensual, loving, slow and Jemma savors it, prolongs it, allows it to create a tingle that radiates from her stomach into every corner of her body, until it mixes with heat, reignites her desire to feel all of him, be one with him. Her hungry lips let him know, her hands urge him to move closer.

His fingers slide down her side, exciting every part of her body they touch. His lips never leave hers. He reaches between her legs, spreading her folds to allow him to enter her. She moans when he fills her, when his hand moves back up her body, cupping her breast, when he rolls his hips forward.

Her hands grip the sides of his head. Her tongue demands to play with his. She arches her back when he moves against her, slowly, pushing against her most tender spot. His heavy breathing as he quickens his pace lets her know that he’s getting as close as she is.

Both are panting hard enough that the need for air forces them to break their kiss. His lips move to her neck, and she bites his shoulder as she feels her muscles tightening around him. She cries out his name when he pushes her over the edge, when she feels him come inside of her. 

Jemma feels his body relax. She enjoys his weight on top of her, as he covers her like a warm blanket.

Her fingers slowly release their grip on his shoulders as her climax subsides.

She’s still trying to catch her breath when she feels her muscles tremble as tears shoot to her eyes, as she’s flooded with emotions; as if the moment of orgasm, of ecstasy, of release was nothing but the eye of a hurricane in which the first wave of the storm was built of passion and lust, while the second wave was all other emotions rolled into one.

Frantically, Jemma reaches for the back of Fitz’s head, combing her fingers through his hair, closing her eyes. She buries her face in the crook of his neck, inhaling his scent, letting her tears stream down her cheeks.

She notices when he pushes himself up, when he brushes her hair out of her face, wipes away her tears.

She opens her eyes and sees his looking back at her full of concern.

“Jemma, what’s wrong? What did I do? Did I hurt you?”

She chuckles sadly. “No,” she whispers. “No. It’s just…You’re here. You’re here,” she sobs.

“I’m here,” he confirms quietly, smiling shyly.

Jemma cups his face. “The last few days. Weeks. We… we almost lost each other. Again,” she tries to explain. “You… you were… and I… with Nadeer and—” She can’t. She can’t continue. Can’t put it into words.

“Shhhh,” he comforts her. “It’s okay. It’s okay. We’re here. We’re here.”

The blue of his eyes sparkles with honesty, and Jemma can’t help but smile and nod.

“You know,” Fitz says, playing with a strand of her hair. “I was wrong.”

“About what?” Jemma asks quietly.

He smiles. “We’re not cursed.”

She chuckles. “Is that so?”

“Yep,” he confirms, nodding slightly. “And even if we  _ were _ , even if the cosmos  _ was _ trying to tear us apart… seems to me like we just can’t be beat.”

She wrinkles her nose in amusement. “We’re a bit stubborn, aren’t we?”

“ _ And _ brilliant,” Fitz adds, grinning widely.

“Ha!” she exclaims happily, feeling his stubble against her fingertips. “Looks like we’re stuck with each other then.”

Fitz chuckles, lifting his torso ever so slightly, looking down at their joined hips. “Quite literally right now.”

She lets out a loud laugh and playfully slaps his shoulder.

He laughs with her, but then his eyes grow serious, as his thumb slides across her lower lip.

“I must say though,” he says barely above a whisper. “The thought of being stuck with you for the rest of my life… it’s kinda nice.”

The ghost of a smile is lingering on his lips as his eyes seem to be looking into her soul, and Jemma can’t shed the feeling that—

“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” she asks quietly, her thumb caressing his temple.

A smile appears on his lips, as his thumb mimics what she’s doing. “I think I just might be,” he says, huskily.

Jemma feels tears sneaking into her eyes; happy tears this time. “When?” she asks, shrugging her shoulders slightly.

“Now?” he suggests.

Jemma laughs. “Well, I think we’re going to need a  _ bit _ more time than that for preparations.”

But he shakes his head. “No, we don’t.”

He swallows, and Jemma feels her heart beating nervously inside her chest.

“Jemma Simmons,” he whispers, his face so close to hers that his features are becoming slightly blurry. “I promise to love you. I promise to be with you, in good times and bad, in sickness and health. I promise to be truthful, and faithful. I promise to be honest, and open, and to communicate to the point of annoyance.” She chuckles briefly, while her eyes fill with tears. “I promise to do everything I can to make you happy, to make you laugh. I promise to share my life with you, my love, my hopes, my dreams… until death do us part… and he better know that I plan on letting it be a very long time until that day comes. I’m gonna fight him on that!”

Jemma laughs, then presses her lips together to regain her composure. She cups his face in her hands.

“Leopold Fitz. I promise to love you. I promise to be with you, in good times and bad, in sickness and health. I promise to be truthful, and faithful. I promise to be honest, and open, and to communicate. I promise to do everything I can to make you happy, to make you laugh. I even promise that once in awhile I’ll let you win at something.”

He laughs, leaning down to kiss her, but she places her index finger against his lips. “Not yet!” she whispers, before continuing her vow. “I promise to share my life with you, my love, my hopes, my dreams until death do us part … a very very  _ very _ long time from now if I have any say in it.”

Fitz smiles at her. “I now declare us… Fitz and Simmons.”

She chuckles, before whispering huskily, “You may now kiss your bride.”

He doesn’t hesitate and his lips melt softly into hers.

He wipes away a tear from his cheek, taking a slow breath. “The way today started out,” he says. “I  _ definitely _ did not expect it to end this way.”

She chuckles. “Well, we  _ do _ deserve a bit of sunshine and rainbows.”

He sighs deeply. “But tomorrow it’s back to saving the world and fighting against crooks and charlatans and the big bad wolf and… Radcliffe.” His eyes grow sadder with each word.

“Hey,” Jemma tries to get his attention. “Look at me,” she adds, holding his face in her hands. “Not now. Not tonight. Tonight, we’re here. Together. All I want, all I  _ need _ tonight, is my husband. Nothing else exists.”

He chuckles. Then he leans down to kiss her, slowly, tenderly, his lips caressing hers, melting against hers. Slowly he moves his hips, and she moans when she feels him getting hard inside of her.

Her hands glide down his back, and she inhales his scent, allowing her body and mind to become one with him once more.

Things weren’t perfect. Maybe they never would be. 

But they were together.

Fitz and Simmons. Simmons and Fitz.

Fitzsimmons.

Quasi husband and wife.

And that was perfection enough.

**Author's Note:**

> I remember reading a fic once where Fitzsimmons exchange vows in private. I thought it was beautiful but honestly never thought I'd write it myself ... but then that kinda just happened as I wrote the story in my head.


End file.
